


Just How Many

by thisbitchheartbroken (SwAgAmAnDeR)



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Bisexual Richie Tozier, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, One Shot, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, background bill/stan, background myra/eddie, other losers are in the background
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 04:09:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21264833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwAgAmAnDeR/pseuds/thisbitchheartbroken
Summary: Richie and Eddie reminisce about their first crushes.





	Just How Many

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by [onlyssca's](https://onlyssca.tumblr.com/post/188549085288/stephen-king-every-losers-first-crush-was) tumblr post 
> 
> We stan bi richie in this house.

“So, here we are,” Richie took a sip of his drink, a flavorful whiskey, “back in good ol’ Derry,”

Eddie hummed in agreement and took his drink as the bartender handed it to him. It was something much sweeter than what Richie had and, Richie thought, very Eddie. He recalled how Eddie had told them all at Jade of the Orient that his first date with Myra had been at a bar. He imagined the man twenty years younger, sitting on a bar stool with a mojito in his hand, like he was now, conversing with a woman who would become a spitting image of his mother.

“I still can’t believe this is all happening,” Richie rambled on. It was a bit awkward, but also not at all. Richie couldn’t explain it; he hadn’t thought of Eddie Kaspbrak in 27 years, and yet it felt as though they had only been apart for a short blip of time, “You know, I was watching a documentary the other day about implanted memories. I’m still not entirely sure Mike didn’t just hypnotize us all or something,”

Eddie shook his head and smiled, “I have a feeling it’s all real,” They had decided to come to a nearby bar after the whole fortune cookie scenario. They told themselves it was to grieve the loss of their shared best friend, Stan, but then again, they didn’t invite the other Losers. This was an Eddie and Richie affair.

“And why is that, Eddie Spaghetti?” Richie felt his brain jolt as the nickname fell from his mouth, like some old circuitry that hadn’t been used in years was finally flicked on again.

Eddie stopped at first – clearly, he had forgotten the nickname as well – then rolled his eyes, “I just feel it is. You know, in my _heart_,”

Richie laughed, “Oh, _in my heart_,” he spoke in an approximation of Eddie’s voice, not as good as his other voices, as it hadn’t been practiced for 20-some years, “Our childhood trauma is so romantic, let’s _take off our shirts and kiss,_”

Eddie laughed too, his eyes crinkling at the edges, “Oh shut up, asshole,”

Richie had been floored as he arrived at Jade of the Orient and his eyes landed on Eddie. The hours between Mike Hanlon’s call and his arrival in Derry had been filled with an onslaught of forgotten memories. By the time he even stepped foot into the restaurant, he was sure he had, at the very least, remembered the names of everyone. There was Big Bill, there was Stanley, there was Betty- no, _Beverley_, Mike, of course, and though it took some effort, he eventually procured the name Ben in his mind.

And then he saw Eddie Kaspbrak standing there, a worried frown on his face, and the last wire in his mind was connected. He remembered it all then, the Barrens, the Quarry, the Clubhouse, the hammock, all of it.

It was Eddie who shocked him the most out of the group. All of the Losers had changed in some way; Ben had gotten thinner, Beverley had gotten more elegant, Bill had improved his stutter, Mike had become a better leader, but Eddie- When he looked at Eddie, he saw a 13-year-old kids in short shorts, digging in his fanny pack for his inhaler.

It was startling, really, how much he looked like his younger self, and startling, really, how much Richie’s heart still raced when he looked at him.

“It’s just,” Richie swallowed another mouthful of his drink, “we’ve forgotten _so much_,”

“Forgetting a murderous clown is a lot,” Eddie nodded. He wasn’t drinking his mojito anymore. Which, Richie thought again, was so much like Eddie to order a drink that was designed to taste good and then not drink it.

“Murderous clown is standard for Derry alumni, I’m talking about other stuff,”

“Like what?” Eddie raised an eyebrow, “Except for you guys, I still remember most of the stuff from my childhood,”

“Like my big gay awakening,” Richie said. He isn’t sure why he said it. He was going to blame it on having too much to drink.

Eddie laughed into his drink, spilling it down his shirt. He cursed, still laughing, as he grabbed napkins from the counter and dabbed at his clothes, “You’re gay?”

“Bisexual, actually,” he took another swig, a long one this time, because _oh dear god what is he doing_.

“I knew it,” Eddie narrowed his eyes and smiled at Richie. He felt relieved. Even though he knew Eddie wouldn’t scream and flee at the confession, it was still reassuring to see him reacting so well.

“What does that mean?” Richie smiled back, his heart soaring. Excess feelings aside, he had really just _said that out loud to another person and it went well oh my god_.

“I always had a hunch, from your Netflix specials,” 

“Oh, so you’re an expert in queer men now, Eds?”

“Maybe I am,” Eddie smiled at him slyly, and wait a minute, Richie thought, this sure seemed a lot like _flirting_, “And don’t call me Eds,”

“I have a funny story,” Richie said, suddenly remembering.

“Do tell, Richie Tozier, world-class comedian,” Eddie finally took another sip of his mojito.

“So I remembered who my first gay crush was on the way here. Like, _actually in person _gay crush, not Bowie, because Bowie is a universal constant as far as first gay crushes go. But anyways, it was _Bill. _Big Bill was my first g-“

Richie was interrupted by Eddie, laughing quietly at first, but it grew into full-on hysterical cackling.

“What?” Richie laughed back uneasily, feeling self-conscious.

Eddie stifled his laughter to choke out, “Bill was-“ He wiped his eyes as he let out another string of laughs, “He was mine too, Rich”

There was a pause for a moment, then: “_What?_”

Eddie was still cackling, “Stan’s too,”

“_Stan?_”

“For like a week,” Eddie had finally calmed down enough to talk coherently, “He told me one day, that he thought Bill’s eyes were pretty and- _that _whole thing lasted for like a week,”

Richie’s brain was having trouble computing this, “So you’re telling me at least three out of six possible Losers had a crush on Bill at some point? Eds, that’s _half_ of us,” Richie was laughing now too, and then Eddie started up again.

Richie wondered how odd they looked, two men in a bar in Derry laughing hysterically over mojitos and bourbons. Wondered how many recognized them – it was a small town after all – “Hey, isn’t that the Tozier kid? I thought he moved west”, “Isn’t that Sonia’s son? Such a shame what she did to that poor boy,”

“Anyways,” Richie resumed, still chuckling, “I showed up here, terrified that seeing him was gonna unearth some sort of massive repressed crush,”

“Understandable,” Eddie nodded. He had finished his mojito.

“But then I got here, and it turns out that _he _wasn’t the problem,”

Eddie’s smile faltered, and Richie thought for a moment he wasn’t the only one repressing things, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,”

“Well, who _is _the problem then?” Eddie grinned and looked into his eyes. Richie was transported, suddenly, to a time long ago in a dirty old house. His hands were on Eddie’s face, willing him to look anywhere but the thing easing towards them. Then transported again, to a time after, teenagers now, laying together in a bed, too close to each other, thinking about how good Eddie’s hair smelled.

Then Richie was back. In a bar in Derry with a tipsy risk analyst who married an embodiment of his personal demons. And Richie wondered just how many of their problems were because of IT and all they forgot and how many were because of everything else, all of the nuances of being raised by a mother with Munchausen-by-proxy or being tormented for looking at boys too long while in the arcade.

“Well,” Richie took a deep breath. His drink was empty, too, “He really hates the nicknames I call him,”

“Yeah?” Eddie laughed under his breath, looking into Richie’s eyes with something like wonder, something like admiration, something like disbelief.

“Yeah, Eds,”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for joining me on my inauguration into this fandom. This is a one shot but i hope to write more reddie, eventually, after i finish my 10000 unfinished fics from other fandoms
> 
> come say hi on [tumblr](thisbitchheartbroken.tumblr.com)


End file.
